The Gentle Man

Copywrite©2010 Mendon Fishers

I was suddenly awake, and covered in a cold sweat. I guess I had "The Nightmare" again but couldn't remember it. I guess talking to the "doc" had helped.

I knew I couldn't go back to sleep yet. The nightmare would only return.

I looked over at the alarm clock. It was 4:30 am. Almost time to get up anyway, so I might as well get dressed. Running a ranch started early in the morning and lasted late into the night. But I loved it.

I had 535,000 acres in the foot hills of the Rockies. My nearest neighbor was 50 miles in any direction. I'm sure of that fact because that is as far in any direction a person needs to travel to get to my property lines from the ranch house.

I went into my bathroom, shaved, showered and returned to my bedroom to dress. When I got all done, I looked like your typical cowboy. I was 40 years old, my hair had turned mostly grey, and my weight got down to 200 lbs from 260 lbs due to all the hard work on the ranch. My face had taken on a weathered look from the sun and the wind. Some of the women I had dated said I was really good looking in a rugged sort of way. I no longer resembled the man who arrived from back east 10 years ago.

Hell I didn't even resemble my Italian roots anymore.

But I was still alone. I just couldn't bring myself to get close to any of the available women.

Now that's not to say I didn't go into town to relive sexual tension. But I never found a woman I wanted to go farther with.

One of my ranch hands once told me, "If you wake up with the same hard-on you had a week ago, it's time to go to town."

So I practiced what he preached. It served my needs. As I got older, the time between trips increased.

But I guess that happens to every guy.

I made coffee and took a cup into my office. I was planning on starting my day a little early. I flipped on a TV and tuned to a national news network.

I love my satellite dish. It allowed me to keep in touch with the world while still enjoying rural living, and besides my Dude Ranch Guests went into withdrawal without it.

This was a working ranch. We had herds of beef cattle; we bred horses, sheep and even a buffalo or two. After I had lived here about 5 years, one day a small family drove up my driveway pulling their travel trailer.

They asked if they could camp out on my property.

They scored a lot of points with me by just stopping to ask. Most people (inconsiderate bastards that they are) just set up camp without asking. I usually had to send one of my hands to tell them to leave.

I really don't know why I said "OK". Maybe it was the fact that they had stopped to ask, maybe it was the look of hope in their son's eyes, or maybe it was just the fact I had a good breakfast.

Whatever it was, I sent one of the hands to help them pick out a good spot that was near the stream and under the trees, but close enough to the main part of the ranch that electric, water, and the bathrooms were close enough to be usable.

Early that evening there was a knock on my front door. There was the son standing there with a huge platter of cookies.

He held them out to me and said," Thank you for letting us stay on your land. It's really nice here."

I noticed his father standing in the shadows with a flashlight, for all intensive purposes, a proud father watching his son become a man.

The boy then went on to explain that his mother made the best cookies in the world and pointed out his favorites. I raised my voice so the father could hear me, thanked the boy, and invited both of them to join me for milk and cookies.

We had a good time; the little boy got me thinking about my own children.

It had been a long time since I had run away, never even taking the time to say goodbye.

The next morning I was working some of the horses in a corral near the main barn when I looked up and spotted the father and son watching me. I was due for a break so I rode over to the fence where they were standing. The boy immediately reached for the horse's head to "Pet" him. The horse I was on was a mean stallion that would bite anyone who got near enough.

I yelled at the boy not to touch. He jumped back and started to tear up. I really didn't mean to yell so loud at the boy and scare him.

I felt like a real jerk.

I got down off the horse, knelt down and explained to the boy about the horse biting and me not wanting him to get hurt. When I got all done, I got a hug from him.

I was feeling so bad, that I took him into the barn, and showed him a newly born colt that we didn't let outside yet. The mare was a pussy cat. She was as gentle as they came, so I let the youngster into the stall with them to touch the baby. He proceeded to ask me a million questions about the foal and her mother.

I guess I made a friend for life because every time for the next week, when I turned around the boy was right there next to me. The father apologized for his son's actions.

I said, "No problem, I enjoy the company".

As the week went on, I bonded with the kid. He was about the same age as my son. (My son lived back East, and I had not seen him in years.) I guessed the boy was filling a need I didn't know I had.

The little family stayed for a week. During that short period of time the boy managed to win over all the ranch hands that met him. We were all sorry when they left.

That fall I decided to start a dude ranch with a family orientation. There wasn't a lot I had to do. My ranch had six cabins with electricity and running water. I set the boys to cleaning them up, adding water heaters and anything else they needed.

My main house was huge. The dining room would seat 30 people; the living room was just as big. I also had a library filled with books on Western history.

So I guess I was all set. We'd just "wing" the rest.

I put a small ad in a vacation magazine back East that catered to families. I got a bunch of replies and a couple of deposits.

Not exactly a great start, but it was something.

As the time for the first guests to arrive neared, I called a meeting with all my staff. We decided what the customers would do around the ranch, what horses were even tempered enough for them to ride. What chores the guests could and would be allowed to do, and what the menu would consist of.

We had even cleaned up an old wagon and outfitted it as a "chuck wagon". Our plan was to take them on an overnight "trail drive" so they could get the real "Old west" feeling.

It slowly took off. After a couple of years we were booked solid all summer long. It was nice to have all the families running around. It made the ranch seemed lived in.

One morning as I sat, sipping my coffee, I started thinking about how I ended up on the ranch. It was a long and twisted journey.

I was a bookkeeper for my Uncle Vito. I worked in a small office over one of his restaurants. You may not think a bookkeeper was major job, but my Uncle was the head of one of the largest crime families on the East coast. I was in charge of all his money, both legally earned and "other".

I was well respected within the "family."

On that fateful day, we had a small kitchen fire and evacuated the building. Since I couldn't work, I went home. The garage was open, so I just pulled in and walked into the side door.

The house was dead quiet.

I heard a slight noise coming from upstairs. For some reason, I grabbed my son's baseball bat from near the door, where he had left it, and went to investigate the noise.

I quietly snuck upstairs and walked into my bedroom, that's where all the noise was coming from. There was a site I'll never forget. I saw my naked wife riding a hard cock, and it wasn't mine. She was lost in the throes of ecstasy, begging to get fucked harder and harder.

Her eyes were closed and she was calling, "Tony make me cum again, I need it."

My name was Sam.

I started across the bedroom toward them, when her lover turned his head and saw me. He looked at me and smirked. It was my enemy, Tony D'Amico, from another crime family. The look on his face, said it all. He was fucking my wife to humiliate me. He was rubbing my nose in it.

I really don't remember what happened next, but when the clouds of anger cleared, there was Tony lying in the bed with his head beaten to a pulp. I guess a 260 lbs guy with a baseball bat could do some serious damage.

He was dead.

My wife was on the floor, it looked as if I took the bat to her also, but she was still breathing.

I didn't know what to do next, so I called my cousin. He told me to calm down, get in my car and drive over to one of his businesses. He'd take care of the cleanup.

When I got to that business, I was put in a car and driven about 200-300 miles to the west where we changed cars and continued driving for the next two days.

We stayed in a small motel outside of Reno, Nevada for a couple of days.

I got my head straight there.

My handler explained that a cleanup crew, sent by my cousin, had made Tony's body disappear, and had tossed my wife down the grand staircase into the foyer. The crew wanted it to look as if she fell down them.

They then started the bedroom on fire to eliminate all sign of Tony's death.

The fire department found my wife at the foot of the stairs and assumed she had fallen down them trying to avoid the fire.

My wife's back had been broken when I had hit her with the baseball bat. The rough handling she received severed her spinal cord at the location of the break. She would not have any feeling from the waist down, she lost the use of both legs, and she lost all control of her bladder and bowels.

I had no sympathy for her after what she did to our marriage.

One of her doctors felt that her injuries could not have been caused by a simple fall down a flight of stairs and wanted to investigate further.

He lost interest in her and shortly after bought a new cabin cruiser. I guess some associates of my cousin talked to him.

My two children were with my elderly parents and doing ok. They were told that their mother had a boy friend and she was injured by him. They accepted that explanation because they had overheard phone calls between her and Tony.

They never asked to see their mother in the hospital.

My handler then tore my heart out. It seems that Tony's distant cousin was the Don of another crime family and he had placed a reward on my head. I couldn't go home again and I'd never see my children again.

On the last day there, my handler gave be a new briefcase. In it I found everything I needed to become Tom Martin.

Sam Pulmeri no longer existed. My life, as I knew it, ceased to exist.

I was outfitted in western style clothes, just a simple ranch hand. My handler introduced me to another ranch hand, and we got in his pickup.

We drove off to start my new life.

I snapped back to the present and started my day. This was a Monday and all the guests for the next two weeks were scheduled to arrive that morning. I walked into my office, turned the welcome sign on, fired up my PC, and started another Monday.

About noon, a limo drove up to the office. I was outside at the time. My first thought was these were going to some "difficult" guests, most of the ones that arrived by limo were. The back door opened on the limo and two teenage kids got out.

My next thought was, "Shit, two very spoiled kids with no parents in sight. Theirs would be a short two weeks". I was thinking of starting a pool with the hands on how long they would last before wanting to return home.

They stood around waiting for their luggage to be unloaded; I thought that they looked a little familiar. But my thought train was interrupted by my current customer's questions. By the time I was done, one of my helpers had checked them in.

At dinner that night I gave my usual talk about the ranch and what we expected from our guests as well as what they could expect from us. I reminded them that this was a working ranch and not a vacation spot that catered to every customer's needs. If they wanted a "spa" treatment, they were going to be very disappointed.

But then I assured them that we would bend over backwards to make their stay memorial.

I noticed that the two kids had found a couple of peers from another family and seemed to be getting along.

I might need to revise my estimate for their length of stay.

Because this was a working ranch, I spent most of my time actually running the ranch. Hands that were assigned to our dude ranch customers had to be people persons. They loved the customers and the customers enjoyed them. If they weren't explaining something, they were entertaining the customers with one tall tail or another.

About a week later, I noticed some noise coming from for one of the smaller barns where we stored hay and grain for the horses. When I investigated I found one of the teenage boys fooling around with one of the teenage girls.

While I understood teenage hormones, I also needed to prevent this behavior. All I needed was a law suit from the parents for a pregnant daughter.

So I "not so discreetly" cleared my throat. There followed the scramble to pull down bras and shirts, and button jeans. They weren't actually having sex, but they were close.

I was a teenager once myself so I understood where they were coming from. But on the other hand, I guess I was going to play the part of her father.

I gave the boy a really hard look and said, "Get boy!"

I almost laughed as he ran for the door, bent over at the waist. I remembered how hard it was to stand up when you had an erection stuffed in tight jeans. (We'd have a good laugh when I told the hands about this that night.)

I turned my hard look on the girl and told her to finish getting dressed and meet me in the study in the main house because we were going to have a talk. I turned and walked out of the barn trying to decide exactly how I was going to handle this.

I didn't have a clue how to begin. I never raised children let alone a teenage girl.

By time I reached the house, I decided that I'd use the "responsible adult" as a base for my talk with her. About 10 minutes later, she walked into the study. She was still crying.

I pointed to a chair across from me and asked if she would like something to drink. I got myself a soft drink as she shook her head no.

Trying to keep my voice soft and even, I tried to imagine what I would want someone to say to my daughter if the situation was reversed.

I talked to her for the next 35 minutes.

I guess I was getting a little carried away. I felt like one of those country preachers. I was in the middle of my "save your virginity for someone you really love" speech when she looked up and started studying my face.

Suddenly she said, "You've got my grandmother's eyes and grandpa's voice and mannerisms." The tears started flowing, "Are you my Dad, Sam Pulmeri?"

I looked at her young face and saw my ex-wife's eyes staring back at me. I remembered a little girl looking up at me with those same eyes, holding her little arms up to me to be picked up.

I looked at her and said, "I missed you Danni."

The next thing I knew, my daughter Danielle was sitting on my lap trying to hug the life out of me. We were both crying our eyes out with joy. This was the little girl; I never thought I'd see again. She had grown into a beautiful young woman.

For the next hour we just sat and talked. We discussed all our feelings. She never left my lap.

Eventually the conversation got around to my son. She said not to say anything to him until she had had a chance to talk to him first. She promised to talk to him in their cabin after dinner.

For the rest of the day, I wasn't worth a shit. I walked around the ranch with my head in a cloud and a silly grin on my face. My hands couldn't figure out what was going on with me, they knew that I hadn't "been to town" lately and wouldn't go near a guest.

The hands hadn't seen me this happy since they had fixed me up with a woman they called "The Sword Swallower" for a long weekend last year.

After dinner, I was in my office trying to do some paper work, when the door burst open and a 15 year old whirlwind ran in shouting, "You're my Dad?"

The next thing I knew we were standing in the middle of my office trying to hug each other to death. Sammy Jr. had grown into someone I would be proud of.

The next morning I grabbed the "special" cell phone, saddled a horse and started to ride out into the hills to have a private conversation with my Uncle Vito.

Vito's son answered the phone.

I said, "Hi Cuz."

He hesitated a minute and replied, "Hi Cubby," with a smile in his voice.

The next thing you knew we were both talking at the same time like a couple of excited kids. When we finally calmed down enough to talk, I told him about my kids and asked why we were put in danger by them being sent out to see me.

My cousin explained it was his father's idea, and he would put my Uncle Vito on the phone. My uncle came on. He sounded old and tired, but there was the sound of genuine happiness as he talked to me.

It seemed that Don Angelo had died. He had left no one to run his empire, so the council had divided it up, the largest portion going to my uncle. My uncle had lifted the bounty on my head and it was safe to return home now.

I told him that I was established out here and just couldn't just leave everything. I promised to come home for Thanksgiving and would stay through the New Year.

I thanked my uncle for the gift of my children and explained that they would be staying with me until they needed to return for school if they wanted.

On my way back to the main house, the cell phone rang again. It was my cousin. He explained that my uncle was failing and these were probably the last holidays he would be with us. He said my uncle had cancer and it was terminal.

I promised I would be there for the holidays.

That night I had my housekeeper open up two of the extra bedrooms in the main house. I only used the master suite and had closed up the other six bedrooms.

The next day while my kids were out playing rancher, I had all their things moved into their new rooms.

They came running into my office yelling that someone had stolen their "stuff" later that day.

I just smiled and pointed upstairs to the second floor. "You guys moved", I told them

They disappeared upstairs to inspect their new digs. After a lot of noise coming down from the second floor, so did they. They wanted to know why I had taken all the trouble to move their stuff when they were scheduled to go back east next weekend.

"That's what you think, "I said."

I explained my phone call with Uncle Vito and that if they wanted, they could stay until school started. There were two very happy teenagers in that room

They said the rooms were beautiful, but they wanted a few things from town to personalize their rooms. I tried to protest, but it was two against one, so I said they could take one of the pickup trucks into town tomorrow.

As I watched them head to town, I started having misgivings about letting them take a truck to town. I could just see the back of that pickup piled full. When they returned, the truck wasn't exactly full, but it's not as if they didn't give it the "old scouts" try.

I was told to keep out of "their" rooms until they had a chance to fix them up.

That was the last I saw of them for the next couple of days. They stayed very busy in their rooms. When the great unveiling finally arrived, I was marched upstairs, after promising not to peek, made to close my eyes,

When I was allowed to open my eyes in each room, I saw the typical teenager stuff.

My son's room had all the wall posters of his favorite sports figures and a couple of car posters. Somehow he even managed to sneak a Sports Illustrated Swim Suit Poster in the mix.